the Rift

the SERPENT and the WOLF [tae v. touloo]

Toulouse Posts: 146
Aurora Basin Impersonator atk: 8.0 | def: 11.0 | dam: 4.0
Gelding :: Equine :: 17hh :: Six HP: 74 | Buff: ENDURE
Boomslang :: Green Ratsnake :: Paralyze Neverrmind

home is behind the world ahead
there are many paths to tread


A dainty trail of hoof prints lay scattered in the damp sea sand, soon to be swept away by the eve’s tide. Their creator slunk ahead along the beach with a soggy tail and salt-stung hocks, his crown hung low as his reflection flashed in the sea foam. It wasn’t often that the serpent ventured so far from his western home, however, there was no keeping him at his outpost after the menace in the marshes not long ago.
Kaos was still out there and still at large and the occurrence in the dead corner was an omen so grim that it caused even Toulouse to begin counting stars, wishing desperately that not a single one would be out of place. This home of his was a place he liked - he would not sit back and see it destroyed as he would any other (like Dorobo… Gods spit on that place).

Those print-stamping hooves now took the snake across low tide’s gift of passage; a sandbar that stretched far into the sunburnt horizon. Aglow and brazen pink was the surface of the sand as well as his own sand-coloured coat. Like a flame he must have shone, crystalline eyes soaking in as much of the sunset as was possible.
Casting that same tear-coloured gaze skywards the gelding noted the violet sky and the abundance of stars that dotted it. It was a sky-scape he would protect from the clutches of that gruesome foe at most costs.

It was then that his muscles felt loose and stretched as if they were far too thin. Eager and in great need for sport was every inch of his cream bodice, it seemed.
Toulouse’s stained nose turned out across the landscape, a barren fire of oranges and pinks that made up the dunes surrounding the Throat. Surely a competitor would emerge - they were a land that was well renowned for their fighters and nought much else.

So it was with a great few stomps in the sand and a screech from the very back of his lungs that Toulouse the specter beckoned to each warrior of that god-forsaken island, hooting and hollering the promise of a challenge. Standing in the center of his chosen arena the serpent ceased his cries and watched for an answer, keen eyes tracing over the horizon.
He had no such titles to accompany his name besides that of specter - nothing that rang with brilliance or might. The serpent was not Toulouse the Undefeated nor Toulouse the Charming. Toulouse was no one.

The toothed lash of his most prized possession fell from its place around his neck as if to remind Toulouse of its existence. How did he ever enter a fight without her?
“Cākāna” the serpent hissed somewhat lovingly towards the charming bullwhip as he reached for its leather handle with his teeth.

The specter would try his hardest to prepare himself before such a challenger made themselves known, and so with a glance over the sand bar he inspected their playing field. There were some small rocks, shells, seaweed and the occasional starfish one would have to avoid, although, aside from the multitude of miniature obstacles there was no immediate dangers within his own proximity. The surface, while wet was perhaps ideal for traction and wouldn’t allow for much sliding - however, should one hit the water, slipping and spilling was a great possibility.
The sun spoke its farewells; final whispers of heat on the wind and the last of its colour awash upon the shore. A magnificent evening; memorable at least. Plus with Cākāna back at his side, this would be a fight to remember.

0/3 - 593 words.
You can go first!

setting; a SANDBAR near the RIPTIDE ISLES and the DRAGON'S THROAT. the sand is damp but not slippery and there are some nasty rocks to look out for.

summary; toulouse walks to the sandbar and admires the sunset which causes him to think about how he doesnt like kaos lmao and then gives a hoot and a stomp for a challenger to fite him!
he sands in the CENTER of the arena HOLDING HIS BULLWHIP.

art: © x coding: © x



Tae Posts: 133
Dragon's Throat Alchemist atk: 7.0 | def: 10 | dam: 4.5
Mare :: Pegasus :: 15.2 :: 2 HP: 72.5 |
Mal :: Timber Wolf :: Terrorize & Hel :: Royal Hellhound :: Hellfire Odd

         in places deep with roots entwined
i live the life i left behind

The mandible-marked mare was on her way home after yet another unsuccessful day of hunting for her stolen cloak. She had almost given up hope entirely that the magical swath of cloth would be returned to her, but she was stubborn, and so when her duties did not keep her on the bloody sands, she took it upon herself to continue the search. Today she had stayed out far later than normal, and the sun was already below the horizon by the time the familiar reddish-orange glow of the Throat came into view. 

But by then, something else had come into view as well.

Tae was on foot since she was travelling with her two earth-bound companions. Although Mal and Hel were fast, it was all too easy for Tae to forget about their limitations if she took to the skies and simply expected them to follow her. And so they were walking - briskly - but were on the ground just the same. The mare’s pale white eyes spotted the horned man as he stood on the sandbar. Before she heard his call, Tae wondered if he wasn’t trying to gain access to the Dragon’s Throat via the extra land created by the tide being out. If that was the case, she’d happily rouse the alarm and keep him where he was until the cavalry arrived. But quickly it became clear that he was looking for a fight, and so her images of him as a burglar quickly disappeared and she now regarded him as an opponent. 

The man was far taller than she, and almost just as lightly built. Although Tae was fast, she doubted that her speed would seem like such an advantage against the golden man’s long legs. Still, she assumed she knew these lands better than he (she’d have noticed him skulking about, wouldn’t she?), and she’d be born and raised on the sands. She could still recall her father telling her that, for all of his training, he’d had to work extra hard to build up endurance when it came to trekking across the Dragon’s Throat. Tae had had no such limitations. From her very first breath her body had been forced to learn how to navigate the energy-sapping footing of her home, and it hadn’t taken her body long to master the lessons that the sands had to teach. Still … the man had horns and height and Gods knew what else in his arsenal. Only the bold (or the stupid) would demand a challenge on the edge of the Dragon’s Throat, as the hour approached midnight. 

Despite all of this, Tae was not worried. She was not a fearful woman no matter how the odds stacked themselves against her. She’d taken on Volterra hadn’t she? She would always be David, ready to face every Goliath who presented themselves. And she had her wolves. Best not to forget about them. Sensing what was to come, Mal and Hel had tensed at her side, though they emitted no noise despite the fact that their hackles were raised and their lips pulled back to reveal sharp white teeth. 

Unlike her father, Tae cared very little about the etiquette of battle or fighting with honour. She cared only about winning, and so she slunk forward as quiet as she could, wanting to come upon the horned man from behind. To aid in this tactic, Tae conjured up a ghost-like image of an eagle to appear before Toulouse, should his gaze remain where it currently was. Although the ethereal creature did not physically attack, Tae hoped that its sudden appearance would distract him long enough for her to come upon him from behind, and take him by surprise.

The mandible-marked mare lunged, her hooves moving easily over the sands. She aimed to come at the gelding on a slight angle to avoid any kicks that he might throw her way out of surprise. She aimed for his left flank, wanting to shove her angular shoulder roughly against the thin cloak-covered flesh. For the time being, the hellhound and wolf only barked and snarled from behind. Their voices were meant to terrorize and intimidate, but out of respect for their pack leader, they kept their claws and teeth to themselves for the time being.

"Is this what you came here for?” Tae hissed once her presence was clear and whatever tactical advantage her attempt at surprise might have brought her, was firmly gone. There was a smile on her deathly-marked skull, but it was a wolfish smile. The smile of a predator. 

WC: 716
Attack: 1/3

Magic used: 

:: [ Magic: LightxSpark | Can create spirits. ] 
:: [ Restrictions | Can only create 3 small or 1 large spirit at a time. Spirits can only affect things within 10m of her body. ]

Image Credits


wooooooo. Will give actually feedback once you attack!

So far though, excellent intro. You really lay out the time of day and setting really nicely, without it seeming obvious.  I know that you've done a few teaching spars, so if there's any specific feedback you'd like me to focus on, let me know. If not, i'll more or less give notes as if I was judging your posts as an actual judge for the rubric.

Toulouse Posts: 146
Aurora Basin Impersonator atk: 8.0 | def: 11.0 | dam: 4.0
Gelding :: Equine :: 17hh :: Six HP: 74 | Buff: ENDURE
Boomslang :: Green Ratsnake :: Paralyze Neverrmind

home is behind the world ahead
there are many paths to tread


While patience was a virtue, impatience was certainly Toulouse’s greatest vice. Grinding his jaws over the rough hide of the bullwhip and twitching at the knees he waited and watched, hypnotic eyes remaining affixed upon the surrounding dunes. Would no one answer his call? This land of warriors would spit no one out to spar him?
The gelding held a restlessness that not even the brontide of the evening waves could sooth, nor the susurrus that echoed from his wind-blown, billowing mane. There was a bite on the wind now, the kind that would see Toulouse shrug at his scarf and sink his shoulders further into the fabric; altogether, he remained oblivious to the approaching opponent.

Had Toulouse known he was being stalked by a hungry pack he would have turned to strike immediately, but, at the arrival of a wondrous spirit the gelding stayed in place, his neck crooning curiously towards the magnificent figure that emerged as if from a diaphanous breath of starlight.
“where did you-” The words fell from his lips as a whisper, though were easily interrupted by the twitch of his ear when the growls and snarls of a pack sounded from behind his line of sight.

Freezing momentarily, Toulouse let his pale gaze trace over the area he could see; which was immediately ahead and to each side. Bare sand, salt, starfish. Nothing.
That was until his flank was met is a mighty slam, the wingbeats and psithurism of the wind between feathers becoming the only noise absorbed by his ears.
The creature gasped against the thud, an imminent feeling of dread falling upon his lanky frame. That had been one hell of a blow; the bruising having radiated throughout his flank, pooling in his left hip. Certain of no fractures, only the most devilish of bruises now remained in his side.

Holding his left hind up and away from the ground Toulouse skipped away from the young mares brutish contact, limping with only his one back leg in use for now. Cold eyes found those of the wolf, a skull-marked creature who nickered a taunt his way. What nerve.
Testing his left hind, Toulouse found he could bear weight easily enough, though it would not be without a deal of pain.

Hip throbbing and eyes filled with irritation, Toulouse gritted his teeth once again over the hide that encased Cākāna. “you don’ wan’ ‘o play fair?” The gelding managed to utter through a muffled mouth full of bullwhip, dragging the wolf’s teeth lash upon the ground.
Have it your way.

Raising his head, even lifting a front leg up with the full-throttle motion, Toulouse made an attempt to rip the lash down upon his opponent’s skin. By trying to strike his jaw down and holding the whip’s handle firmly within his mouth, the gelding hoped to achieve a nasty slash upon the she-wolf’s dark hide should she stay in close proximity to him. Should the whip snag upon her wing, it would be a wonderful bonus - perhaps he’d even attempt to drag her.
The damage in his hip hardly eased, yet it became slightly more bearable with adjusting his stance and the amount of weight bore upon it. A survivor he remained, unmoved by the pack’s attack.

1/3 - 549 words.
Thank you!
And hmm, I would love just general stuff from the rubric and also I would love your opinion on how I go with taking damage! :) Also how you think I could make my posts more dynamic if you have any ideas? I try to be creative but I don't want to be unrealistic!
also, Toulouse's magic involves eye contact so do you have any pointers on how I might be able to word it so i wont get points off for PP?
I've actually only done like one teaching one with snow and that's about it! The others have defaulted or something like that. Super excited to learn :)

summary; toulouse is distracted by the spirit and takes taes hit in the flank, receives a seriously nasty muscle-deep bruise that is restricting his movement somewhat. He then attempts to whip tae with his whip by basically tossing his head up and bringing his head down fast to bring the lash down upon her.

damage; hp: 56
- (6) muscle deep buise on left  flank/hip area

art: © x coding: © x



Blu the Bootyful Posts: 443
Administrator atk: 99 | def: 99 | dam: 99
Mare :: Other :: 5'7" :: 25 HP: 99999 | Buff: TWERK
Tae defaults to Toulouse. Toulouse earns 0.5 VP
 HP: 1100

Helovia Hard Mode

Forum Jump:

RPGfix Equi-venture